


The Temperature's Rising, It Isn't Surprising

by rummyjoe



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Oliver is having a hard time, UST, in a kind of heatwave, in his pants, olicity - Freeform, trapped at Queen Consolidated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rummyjoe/pseuds/rummyjoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>gee, her anatomy</em>
  <br/>
  <em>makes the mercury</em>
  <br/>
  <em>jump to ninety-three</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temperature's Rising, It Isn't Surprising

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime during early Season 2.

It was hot. Really hot. Take off your tie and sit on the cool marble floor in the relative shade away from the windows with your legs splayed out in front of you hot.

Felicity was sitting next to Oliver, and he tried really hard not to notice that she'd undone another button on her shirt.

'Tried' being the operative word. Being taller than Felicity by quite a few inches, and with both of them leaning back against the wall, his vantage point gave him an interesting view. Especially when she would give a particularly vigorous swing of the clipboard she was using as a fan, and the edge of her shirt would flutter. He had been perfectly happy not knowing what color bra she was wearing today. Well, not _happy_ exactly, but probably better off in the long run. 

He kept watching, hypnotized, wondering when he would be graced with more flashes of sky blue satin. It made another fleeting appearance, peeking out before it was quickly covered again. He licked his lips, imagining for a brief second what the damp skin there would taste like if he ran his tongue along its edge.

He knew he should be paying attention to what Felicity was saying, so he wouldn't get caught out if he was supposed to make a reply. He forced himself to concentrate and heard her once again ranting about how it wasn't fair that it wasn't a problem with the computerized system because she could have fixed it ages ago and what kind of barbaric world did they live in where they had to shut off the damn elevators to get to some stupid mechanical part in the basement that controlled the main thermostat for the whole building and mechanical engineers always thought they were hot stuff and that was when a bead of sweat plunged into her cleavage and Oliver went lizard-brained and tuned her rant to background noise as his eyes traced its journey. Her voice eventually grew louder as she was finishing up, and Oliver focused again on what she was saying.

"I'm going to die!"

Oliver's lips quirked into a quick smile. "You're not going to die, Felicity."

"I am a delicate flower," she stated emphatically. "A delicate flower that has wilted and if I am not rescued soon, I am going to die a horrible flowery death. Stems and petals everywhere. Don't you have any spare grappling arrows or some other gadget stashed somewhere around here? We could break the window and rappel down the side of the building. Oh, I bet that would be a nice breeze," she finished with a wistful sigh and another strong flip of the clipboard.

Oliver was debating the merits of trying again to convince her they could just walk down ("Thirty-five flights of stairs? Are you kidding me?!") when it hit him. He owned a damn helicopter, and the roof was only a few flights up. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. It had to be the heat addling his brain. His eyes caught another flicker of blue, the most extensive one yet, and his throat went dry.

Yeah, the heat, that was definitely it.

"Hey!" Felicity shouted, startling Oliver. He instantly pulled his eyes to hers, trying not to look guilty. He was relieved to find that she wasn't looking at him. "Your private bathroom has a shower! A shower with glorious cool water that we can take advantage of." Felicity pushed herself to her knees, then hopped to her feet and turned toward the small alcove where the bathroom was located. 

"Separately!" she practically shouted as she stopped short. "We'll take turns! One after the other, not together because that would be... Whatever, you know what I meant," she finished with a wave of her hand.

Oliver knew he should mention the helicopter. It would put an end to their misery. But Felicity was wearing _that_ skirt today, and she had removed her heels before sitting down, and he was still sitting while she was now standing and facing away from him and everything was right there at eye level and his brain was definitely being addled by the heat.

She took a deep breath and started toward the alcove in the corner, paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. "Do you wanna go first, or...?"

She bit her bottom lip, a hopeful look on her face.

Oliver swallowed hard and decided that misery wasn't so bad.

"Yeah, it's..." he cleared his throat. "Go ahead."

Felicity practically skipped around the corner to the private bathroom. Oliver closed his eyes and softly clunked his head back against the wall a few times before exhaling a loud breath. 

About a minute later, he realized that he could hear water running in the shower. She must not have closed the door all the way, for airflow purposes. This was going to be torture.

No, misery. He'd chosen misery.

"Oh god, yes!" Felicity's voice drifted out to him. "So good."

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, closing his hands into fists and groaning in frustration.

A particularly loud "mmmmmmmmm" followed an obscene sounding "ooooo" and Oliver's imagination was overloaded with what Felicity could be doing in there to be making sounds like that. What _he_ could be doing in there with Felicity to make her sound like that. Touching and kissing her everywhere, sipping cool water from her skin as he moved lower, his tongue dipping into her navel, trailing across to her hip, lower still until his lips touched heaven and he took a long drink from --

"Oliver?" she called out, and he swore he was going to have a heart attack. "I'm gonna wear your robe for a little while. I don't wanna put my sweaty clothes back on yet."

He started gulping air, holding his breath then letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm his body. A couple minutes later, he heard the door creak open. The situation in his pants hadn't gotten any better, so he quickly drew his knees up and leaned his forearms on them, head down.

Her bare feet made almost no noise as she padded over to him. "Are you ok?"

Her fingers ghosted over his scalp, and he had to fight to suppress a shiver. Her hand came to rest at the nape of his neck, and he decided he was in Hell. He was in Hell, and this was his punishment for not mentioning the helicopter.

"Oliver?"

"Um." He cleared his throat, then again, before he spoke the first word that came to mind. "Thirsty," he barely got out, then cursed himself, the images that popped back into his brain causing him to pull in a quick breath. "I'm, uh, just thirsty."

"Let me get you a glass of water," she said, her fingers scritching the back of his head before she walked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize the heat hit you so bad, and here I was hogging the shower while you were sitting out here." She turned the corner again, and he heard the mini fridge open. 

He just needed to get into the shower, run the water as cold as it could get. That might help. If he stood in there for an hour or so. He sighed and grabbed his suit jacket off the floor next to him. He stood and held the wadded cloth in front of himself, hoping it would camouflage his...issue long enough to get him past Felicity.

He stepped around the corner and --

"Oliver, do you want a glass or just the whole bo--"

They almost collided. Oliver dropped his jacket and grabbed Felicity's shoulders to keep her from falling over.

"Oh, thanks! Sorry!" she smiled. "I was just going to ask if you wanted a bottle or..."

"Um." A small droplet of water escaped from the damp edge of her hair and slid down the cord of her neck, vanishing under the edge of his robe. That Felicity was wearing. Over nothing else but her naked, recently wet skin. Oliver licked his lips.

"I, uh, think I can get my own." He leaned forward ever so slightly, lips parting.

A loud whirring noise came from above them, and air started blowing down on their heads.

"Oh, yay!" Felicity bounced on her feet and threw her head back, eyes closed. The column of her throat was laid bare for him. All he had to do was lean the rest of the way down and --

"Wait!" Felicity popped her head upright. "If the air's on, that means the elevator's going to be working again soon, and oh my god, I have to get dressed!" She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Oliver stared at the closed door for a full minute, flexing and releasing his fists. He sighed, then bent to pick up his suit jacket before heading into his office. He sat in his chair and shifted into different positions before settling on propping his knee on the side of the desk, ankle crossed over his other knee, an open file folder placed on his lap.

If he was lucky, Felicity would still be too relieved by the return of air conditioning and their impending escape from the building to notice anything. He knew Digg wouldn't be fooled when he arrived, though. The damn glass didn't hide anything.

He really needed to get a different desk.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary are lyrics from "Heat Wave" by Irving Berlin.
> 
>  


End file.
